


At Home

by tablelamp



Category: Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Developing Relationship, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-05-19 15:28:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19359724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tablelamp/pseuds/tablelamp
Summary: Mary was used to being alone in the drawing-room. In fact, she preferred it.





	At Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Beatrice_Otter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beatrice_Otter/gifts).



Mary was used to being alone in the drawing-room. In fact, she preferred it, for although the company of her sisters was by no means disagreeable, she sometimes had the disquieting thought that they were not entirely interested in what she might have to say. She had spent many industrious hours poring over books borrowed either from her father's library or from a circulating library, and the pleasure of a genuinely edifying text was scarcely to be equalled.

The door to the drawing-room opened, and Mr Collins entered, wearing an expression that clearly marked his discomfort. Mary set aside her book, wondering what could have perturbed him.

"My dear Miss Mary," said Mr Collins, "I did not mean to interrupt your reading. I will take my leave."

"Did your interview with Lizzy proceed as you wished?" said Mary.

Mr Collins appeared to be caught between the extremes of courtesy and ill feeling. "In all truth, it was somewhat less than satisfactory. I had understood her refusal to be a mere formality, but now I am not at all convinced that is the case. Both your sister and your mother have been steadfast in maintaining that she does not say that which she does not mean."

"Though it may displease you, sir, I must speak the truth and agree that she does not," said Mary.

"I cannot think what I could have done to offend," cried Mr Collins with some asperity. "I paid her many elegant compliments. She showed no sign of disliking me at the ball, and danced the first two dances with me. Surely there could be nothing wrong in that."

"I am no student of the dance, sir," said Mary. She was not often called upon to give comfort; her mother would not take comfort from anyone when she was anxious, and her sisters did not turn to her for consolation. She found the office to be unfamiliar but not displeasing. "But I am certain you did no wrong. Lizzy is my sister, and I love her with all the sisterly feeling that is her due, but she is singular. I have never understood how it is that she decides to favour one person but not another. She must have her own set of guidelines, but they operate by no moral precepts I may uncover. I do not mean that she is immoral, only that I do not understand her reasons."

Mr Collins was silent, and Mary wondered if she had done anything to assist Mr Collins or if she had merely wounded him further.

"If you wish for solitude, I will detain you no longer," said Mary, attempting to determine whether her absence might improve Mr Collins's mood.

"No," said Mr Collins, more abruptly than was his habit. "I thank you for your consideration, but I should be glad of the company, if you will indulge me."

"Oh! I will," said Mary. This was a moment for which her reading should have prepared her, and Mary searched for some piece of wisdom that would ease the disquiet experienced by Mr Collins, but found none. Perhaps she could piece together some words to assist him. "It is a matter of some difficulty to be spurned, I believe. When one is prevented from obtaining that which one truly desires, it can scarcely be considered gratifying in any way. But consider that it may be a test of character. If we received everything we wished for, we would not have the opportunity to show our tenacity in responding to adversity."

"That is true," said Mr Collins. "I have already received a most fortunate gift in earning the favour of my esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Perhaps my current difficulty is in direct proportion to the ease with which I made that most felicitous connexion. It would do me no good to have secured the affections of your sister and to be without a patroness or a living; such a situation could conceivably lead to utter ruin, particularly as in that instance neither the lady nor I would have any prospects to speak of. No, it is better that I should retain my claim to Hunsford under the condescending eye of Lady Catherine. You are most kind to remind me that the vexations of life exist for a reason, though I cannot imagine that you have had cause for any such vexations yourself."

"No doubt they are such small vexations that they would seem utterly insignificant to you," said Mary.

"I must remind you," said Mr Collins, appearing intrigued by the pains Mary took to avoid the question, "that as a clergyman, I am privy to all manner of complaints, from the very great to the very small. Just as there can be nothing above my notice, neither can there be anything below it; thus I entreat you to say what you wish to say."

Mary found herself surprised by Mr Collins's apparently earnest entreaty. As one child of five in a house full of lively conversation, it had been necessary for Mary to learn ways of expressing her own thoughts, whether called for or not; to find someone asking her about her own views without intending to laugh at them was more than she had expected.

"I do not mean to bear my burdens ill," said Mary, "but since you have asked, it is very vexing to have four beautiful sisters and, consequently, to be found wanting."

"I think you are not so very plain," said Mr Collins.

"Sir, I know your good intentions, but you cannot flatter me on this point. I am not and will never be a beauty. Having none of the pleasing qualities of my sisters, I must instead direct my attention to my accomplishments, in an effort to distinguish myself in some other way."

"You show your tenacity in the face of adversity," said Mr Collins with a smile.

He had listened to her, and understood. Mary smiled in turn. "I have certainly tried to do so."

For the first time, Mr Collins seemed to take notice of the book Mary was reading. "Fordyce's Sermons?"

"If you remember, you began reading one to us," said Mary. "I have read them before but your reading reminded me I wished to return to them. I find there is much to be learnt in the repeated perusal of works of moral instruction."

"Indeed there is," cried Mr Collins, most gratified. "As you will no doubt recall, Fordyce states that the graces of the mind and not the embellishments of the body are what render women truly lovely. These graces you must surely possess in greater number than your sisters by virtue of your constant work to attain them."

"I thank you," said Mary, astonished by the compliment.

"Miss Mary, I wonder if you will perhaps do me the honour of sitting beside me at dinner? I should like to converse with you at greater length about this subject, and perhaps about others."

"I am much obliged by your kind invitation," said Mary, "and am happy to accept."

His invitation accepted, Mr Collins seemed to realise for the first time the potential impropriety of having had such an extended interview with Mary quite alone, and bid her a hasty farewell. Mary returned to Fordyce's Sermons but, some time hence, found that she had to turn back several pages, having apparently read them while retaining nothing of their character. Ordinarily she would have found such a realisation most vexing, but she had the peculiar notion that scarcely anything could vex her today, perhaps due to the promise of improving conversation at dinner. Until then, she would cultivate her 'graces of the mind,' and think of Mr Collins with some affection.


End file.
